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Bill Dixon’s most recent recordings have found him working in
large ensemble settings, rather than the duo and solo format which
makes up much of his recorded output, and the title of his latest release
announces that the sound will once more have an orchestral dimension.
As Stephen Haynes notes in his online journal/blog covering the
recording sessions for this project, 1 one of the challenges involved was
providing enough distinction in the sound mix between five
trumpeters/cornet players with similarly dark sounds. But Dixon does,
after all, favour a dark palette, as amply demonstrated by his last album,
‘17 Musicians In Search of a Sound: Darfur’, where the slightly larger
ensemble produced slowly emerging chord-clouds and slowly shifting
unison passages in which the ensemble mesh was produced by
individual instruments in near, but not quite, total alignment. The effect
is a kind of blurring, produced by a very careful manipulation of
individual detail; a more horizontal than vertical approach, with solos
emerging as parts of the texture – like a colour highlighted in a particular
portion of a canvas – rather than as monologues supported by an
ensemble background. This has always been the case with Dixon’s own
playing, particularly given his use of electronics, and the fact that the
other trumpeters also deploy electronics, in some cases seeming to mimic
his approach – muted growls, breathy whispers, repeated mid-register
notes, high-pitched flurries cascading into silence – adds to the
collaborative feel. That’s not to say that there aren’t solo spots, though –
for instance, ‘Motorcycle ‘66’ starts with melodic material for
unaccompanied bass which succeeds in forcing an initial concentration,
in ushering the listener in to a music which needs to be heard with open
ears. In any case, neither ensemble nor solo passages contain a wasted
note; as Dixon puts it: “Listen to the space in the room. If you can't do
something more beautiful than that, shut the fuck up.” The result tends
to a kind of substantial minimalism – very slow, seeming to lack any
overtly linear development, predominantly atmospheric, almost trancelike.
And yet even this apparent lack of activity – most pronounced on
the sustained hush of ‘Adagio: Slow Mauve Scribblings’ – reveals itself
upon closer inspection to consist of complex structural balances and
connections. Low, slowly-shifting drones, shimmering vibraphone,
occasional electronic tweaks, overlapping melodic lines, repeated upward
flurries all combine to create a sound field that is unique in modern
music. Inexorable yet fragile, ‘Tapestries for Small Orchestra’ is slowmoving,
meditative, and deeply affecting. (DG)
1 http://stephenhaynes.blogspot.com/2008_07_01_archive.html